


He Talks a Lot But Not Too Much But Doesn’t Sound Like You

by MamaG



Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: After Simon vs ends, Break Up, College, Dating, Drunk!Texting, M/M, Reconciliation, drunk!Bram
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 11:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14401413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaG/pseuds/MamaG
Summary: ...but the only person who’s Simon funny, is Simon and he’s not here. He never will be here, not any more, not with Bram anyway. He made that clear during the phone conversation they’d had back in October. Making the start of his Junior year at Duke pretty damn miserable so far.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Ingrid Michaelson song Through.
> 
> This is my first Simon vs fic. I have more I can write if people like it but I’m pretty unsure of everything I write so it depends on how it’s recieved.

Alex laughs covering his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s laughing at his own joke, and for some reason it nauseates Bram. Probably because it’s not something Simon would have ever done unless everyone else was laughing too. Bram reminds himself to at least smile. He quirks up the side of his mouth in a sad attempt at a smirk and sets his fork down and pushes his plate away, stomach still churning. 

The truth is Alex is actually pretty funny, he’s not Simon funny, but the only person who’s Simon funny, is Simon and he’s not here. He never will be here, not any more, not with Bram anyway. He made that clear during the phone conversation they’d had back in October. Making the start his Junior year at Duke pretty damn miserable so far. But, seriously, enough about Simon. He was here, in a pub with Alex who was funny, and smart, and cute (but not Simon cute. STOP.), and he is in Bram’s ethics in journalism class. But best of all he actually wanted to spend time with him, had asked him out, and Bram had accepted. Mostly so Bram could tell Simon that why yes he was indeed “seeing other people” and it would be true, if only a little exaggerated considering this was the only date he’s been on. He would most likely be able to tell him so when he saw him again next week when they were both home for Christmas break, even if it was only because they were both still friends with Leah and Garrett and good luck trying to separate those two.

“You done?” Alex asks, looking pointedly at Bram’s pushed away plate of chicken.

“Um, yeah.”

“Me too.” Bram looks at his plate, Alex had completely demolished his meal in less than 8 minutes, their wasn’t so much as a smear of ketchup left as evidence. His stomach churns again, and the word ‘gross’ is on the tip  
of his tongue.

“So, Bram, you want to come back to my place? There may even be a cosmo in it for you, and a little more if you’d like...” Bram suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, with the sex already? It took he and Simon 9 months to get that serious. But then again Alex is not Simon. Clearly. Maybe not everything has to be as serious as his first relationship though. Maybe some relationships could be spontaneous and fun and not at all a bonafide “relationship”(this is not to say that things weren’t spontaneous and fun with Simon. They were. Just in a different way. No. More.) . With that thought echoing in his mind, he looked Alex straight in his green eyes and said, “Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.”

“Cool. Let me just get the check.”

“Hey, no let me. You just make me that cosmo later.” He says, and then he winks. He sort of hates himself for that wink because it’s so blatantly flirtatious and he feels a little like he’s making him think that he didn’t just think the word ‘gross’ in regards to him. Plus, it’s just not him. Bram does not wink, and Alex has no way of knowing this. He Who Must No Longer Be Mentioned, would know. He’d call him on his bluff and probably say something like “Who the fuck are you and what have done with my Abraham?” 

Alex just grins.

Bram pays at the register and tries to think about Alex. About how objectively he looks a little like He Who Must No Longer Be Mentioned but He doesn’t have his gray eyes and while his hair is blonde not a strand of it is out of place, he also has glasses, but all of this gives him more of Tyler Oakley vibe to Bram instead of a, um, other guy vibe.

When they get to Alex’s apartment it sort of blows Bram’s mind at how fancy it is.

“Alex... this place... your place is amazing...”

“Hey, thanks, my parents help me out with it.” Hearing this makes him weirdly annoyed and all of sudden in this moment he misses his mom more than he has in the last 2 years combined. 

“Want me to put on some music?” Alex asks as he helps Bram out of his coat and hangs it on the back of the expensive looking couch.

“Sure.” He turns on an iPod in a dock on the kitchen counter and an unfamiliar song starts playing. “So, are you going to make me that drink or what?” Bram asks.

Alex’s face cracks into his easy smile as he says “For you Bram? Anything.” It’s sort of nice to hear someone talk to him like that again. 

Alex brings him his drink and watches as Bram takes a long sip that’s followed by a small cough. His gaze is intense but just like him saying he’d do anything for him, it’s nice to be looked at like that again. Like at any moment he might be swallowed whole and it would be the best thing that has ever happened to him. The drink is pretty gross, though. Bram has never really had hard alcohol before and this first experience is certainly not a ringing endorsement.

“So, tell me something I don’t know about you, Bram.” He looks at him over the rim of his glass and sort of flutters his eyelashes at him. 

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. Tell me about your family.” This question, this type of question, immediately sends his mind to the past. To the first anonymous emails and He Who Must No Longer Be Mentioned. He probably shouldn’t even be thought of again for at least the rest of the night.

“Um, alright. My parents are divorced. My mom’s an Epidemiologist at a lab and my dad’s an English professor, and he and my stepmother have an almost 4 year old together, Sasha, my sister.”

“That’s cute.” Bram’s not trying to be stupid, but he’s not 100% certain what exactly is cute about what he just said. Maybe Alex is not even listening. It’s not altogether surprising to him that he doesn’t even care if he’s listening to him or not. The other guy was a good listener. 

Another eyelash flutter.

Bram lets out a breath “So, tell me something I don’t know about you, Alex.” He’s imitating how he said it from earlier, he even flutters his eyelashes. He’s been told he has dramatic eyelashes.

Alex doesn’t seem to notice any of this but leans in close and puts his hand on Bram’s lower back, his eyelashes are fluttering so much Bram honestly thinks he could take flight with them and he whispers in his ear “I’ve never been with a black guy before.” 

Bram stiffens at this and hears his mother’s voice in his head “You listen to me now, Abraham. Don’t you ever let anyone talk that way to you. You aren’t any one’s experiment. and you aren’t a representative for your entire race. Don’t you ever let anyone turn you into either of those. You’re the total package. They should be so lucky to be with someone like you.”

He doesn’t even begin to think about how someone else would have reacted if he heard someone speak that way to him. Yup, he doesn’t think about that, not at all. But someone else probably wouldn’t be upset about it now. But he definitely doesn’t think about that. Nope. It doesn’t cross his mind. Promise.

All he can think to say in response, in his fuzzy, cosmo soaked brain is “Uh, okay?” 

Alex is still standing so close to him, he’s sort of looming and his hand is still on his lower back when he says “have you ever been with a white man?” 

Bram is seriously nauseated now. He honestly thinks he may puke all over what is most definitely a genuine Persian rug. And not just because it’s a gross question, that Alex wouldn’t even consider asking a white perspective sexual partner, because you know, default. And not just because the answer is yes, but just the one. There is only one man period, and he is an actual angel, but now he’s not in my life anymore, thanks a shitload for asking.

But Alex doesn’t even give him a chance to respond because suddenly he’s kissing him. Enthusiastically. He knows that given the racist undertone of the conversation and the fact that Alex tastes like cosmos and cheeseburgers, that he should definitely push him away. He should go home to his dorm and study. But for a minute he’s not thinking about, er, someone else. All he’s thinking about is lips on lips, and that feels really nice. Not thinking about anything else, that is. So, he lets himself get caught up in it. Even if doing so makes him feel like a traitor both to his mom and...someone else.

Around the time both of their shirts are off and Bram’s pants are undone, a song comes on through the speakers, and Bram just freezes. It’s an Elliott Smith song. A very specific Elliott Smith song. He suddenly becomes very aware of how contrived and fake this whole freaking thing is. How just totally not him this situation and this guy are.

He stands up and Alex falls forward stupidly. Bram almost laughs. 

“Sorry, I gotta go.” He says as he buttons and zips his jeans.

“What the hell...” Alex mumbles.

Bram snatches up his shirt and hasn’t even finished putting it on before he’s at the door.

“Really, I’m sorry, this was fun. It won’t ever happen again, but it was fun.” He grabs his jacket off the back of the too expensive couch.

“What the hell?!” This time when he says it it’s clear as day.

“I’ll see you in class.” Then Bram walks out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once he’s out in the crisp December air, he sobers up a bit and he’s realizing that he is so happy to be walking home alone and no longer in that too fancy apartment. He may be ecstatic about it.

Once he’s out in the crisp December air, he sobers up a bit and he’s realizing that he is so happy to be walking home alone and no longer in that too fancy apartment. He may be ecstatic about it.

Way to make at least one good decision tonight, Bram. High-five Bram. He sort of claps his hands together, in a mono-high five. As he’s doing this he’s realizing the cold air may not be as sobering as he thought and yet he doesn’t feel as drunk as he’d like, because Elliott Smith is still ringing in his ears and all he wants is to be drunk enough that he can’t remember his own name. 

He walks the few blocks back to the university district on practically deserted streets. It must be later than he thought. He decides to stop at a corner store near campus that infamously does not check ID’s and pick up some Mike’s Hard Pink Lemonade. It’s not the most “masculine” drink but he’s heard it  
tastes like juice from an old friend. No, he’s giving up, he heard it from Simon.

When he finally gets to his dorm he gets about 5 feet from his room before he notices the sock on the door knob. He lets out a frustrated groan then checks around the hallway before holding up his middle fingers to the closed door. He’s constantly getting locked out of his dorm because Jackson and his girlfriend couldn’t possibly keep their hands to themselves for one night. If he’s being honest with himself he’s frustrated not just because all he wants to do is drink himself to sleep but he also maybe, possibly, is a tiny bit jealous. He used to have that too and it was the best, the chances of him ever being that happy again seem pretty slim at this point.

He turns around and makes his way to the communal living room at the end of the hall, that is mercifully empty right now. There’s a couch, TV, ping pong table, air hockey, and even a mini fridge that’s complete with a note that says ANY ALCOHOL FOUND IN THIS FRIDGE WILL BE THROWN OUT IMMEDIATELY love your patient servants, The RAs. He knows it’s risky to try and drink in this semi public part of the dorms but if he gets kicked out of school he would be able to go back to Georgia and then at least he’d be in the same state as Simon and that sounds pretty great. So he flops himself down on the couch and holds his drinks in his lap, pulls one out and pops the top. He takes a long swig (Simon was right it does taste like juice) before reaching for the remote and switching on the TV. He wants something mindless that uses absolutely no brain power because he’s not sure he has any of that left. He finds a Real Housewives marathon and thinks it’s perfect, until either the alcohol or their overly Botoxed faces make him start to feel nauseated again. 

He turns off the TV and lays down one arm behind his head and the other holding his drink resting on his stomach. He pulls out his phone and notices that its 330 in the morning and turns some music on low so he doesn’t bother anyone trying to sleep. Then he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

By the time he’s staring down the neck of his  
third empty bottle he’s feeling pretty, sleepy. Suddenly, for the second time that night, it feels like music is guiding his actions because The Weepies are playing that song Sirens and he feels like it was written about him and this moment. He may be drunk but it just feels so poignant because this is a Simon band. It makes him feel braver than he is. So he grabs his phone and types out a series of texts to Simon before he can stop himself.

B: I went out on a date tonight.

B: It was terrible.

B: You’ve officially ruined all other men for me. No one is you. That’s the problem.

B: So, I guess what I’m trying to say is I miss you. I know you don’t love me any more but I am, quite possibly, crazy drunk right now, so that’s an excuse right? I say true things when I’m drunk, apparently. I don’t expect to hear from you, so you know, no pressure, but I felt like I wanted you to know.

He puts his phone down. Then picks it up again and scrolls through the texts he just sent. He’s mortified at how pathetic he sounds. Desperate. He sounds pathetic and desperate. Pathetically desperate. Or maybe it’s desperately pathetic. Whatever. It’s bad, and he suddenly wishes he could take it all back even if it is true and dig a hole and bury himself alive so he never has to think about this again. He throws his phone and it lands with a thud near the TV. 

He just lies there for a minute feeling like he’s going to cry and then he is, and he honestly hates everything right now. He hates that he kissed Alex even when he turned out to be sort of an asshole. He hates that he accepted that date in the first place. He hates Jackson in their dorm loving someone and being loved. He hates that he’s had so much to drink and as a result sent a humiliating text to his perfect ex-boyfriend. But most of all he hates that he’s not with Simon. He hates it so much he’s starting to feel pretty pissed off about the whole thing. He’s never felt this before, he’s always only felt sad and maybe a little disappointed at times but right now he’s just flat out mad. Mad that he doesn’t even fully understand what happened between them, he doesn’t know where everything went wrong. At the time it felt out of left field, but then when he thought about it later he realized how many people stay with the same person they dated in high school, even being from the south he knew of no one personally. So really he felt he should have seen it coming. 

 

He’s torn out of his reverie by a brief buzzing from the floor near the TV. His phone. A text notification.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even this unemotional almost cold text from Simon is better than anything Alex did all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to buckle down and finish this before I get sucked into LOTO tomorrow. This chapter is brought to you by bubbles and library books for entertaining my kids so I could write.

His heart feels like it could beat out of his chest, and he seems to have frozen in time. There’s another buzz. Probably just the reminder notification. Or another text. That thought snaps him out of it pretty quick.

Wait. What time is it? 

He cranes his head to look at the clock on the wall. 430. 

Then he’s in motion scrambling for his phone and he imagines he looks something like a baby giraffe learning to walk.

His hands are shaking as he picks up his phone, it feels like it takes him an hour to unlock the phone and open the texting app and there it is right under Simon’s name that’s still book ended by a purple heart on each side: an actual text from Simon Spier. The first one in almost two months. 

S: Wow, Bram. I’m surprised to be hearing from you.

Even this unemotional almost cold text from Simon is better than anything Alex did all night. 

B: Yeah, sorry. Won’t happen again.

S: That’s too bad.

His heart skips a beat reading this.

B: Really? 

S: Well, Yeah, Bram you’re one of my best friends. I said back in October that I wanted to still be friends.

His anger bubbles back up again.

B: You said a lot of things back in October, Simon.

He waits a beat and then

B: By the way “Let’s just be friends” is such a fucking line no one ever really means that.

S: Wow. You’re swear-y when you’re drunk.

All he can think is that Simon knows the only other time he gets “swear-y” and the thought makes him blush. Then he immediately sees the ellipses signifying he’s still typing.

S: Can I just call you? It feels weird talking about this over text.

Bram’s heart has taken off without the rest of him, it feels like it’s beating so fast it’s now three feet in front of him. 

He wants to tell him yes but he’s also afraid that hearing his voice when he’s no longer Bram’s boyfriend (and possibly someone else’s) may actually kill him. The way his heart is wildly beating it feels like a precursor to death. But than again... it’s Simon so their is really only one answer he can give.

B: Okay.

His phone starts ringing before he’s really ready to answer it. Simon’s picture pops up and he hasn’t looked at this picture in a long time. It’s from graduation and Bram’s giving him a kiss on the cheek causing Simons graduation cap to sit sideways on his head and he’s got this gigantic smile on his face. It’s such a great picture that he just sits there and looks at it for a minute before finally answering the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” It’s so crazy that hearing him say that one word melts his anger away like it wasn’t even there to begin with.

Bram takes a deep breath and says “Sooo....”

“Well, I’m guessing you want to talk about the break up, even though that’s the farthest thing from my mind right now.”

“Well, yeah Simon, I think I deserve an explanation.” He meant for this to come out in a harsh clipped tone but instead it just comes out as defeated.

“It’s just what I said back in October I thought it would be better for both of us if we weren’t a couple any more, that’s it, that’s why. Especially for you.”

“Excuse me? Better for me? Um, how exactly is not being with you better for ME?” What fucking stupid thing to say and worse than that it sounds like he’s blaming Bram for the situation they’re in.

“Well, Jesus, Bram you weren’t exactly happy were you? Every time I called you, you sounded worse than the time before.”

“That’s not even a little bit true and you know it, Simon Spier.” 

Silence. 

And then so quiet he’s not even sure if he imagined it or not, “Isn’t it though?” He waits and then Simon lets out a long breath. “Listen, I don’t know what to say here, except that levery time we talked you just talked about how much you missed me and how you were counting the days till you could see me again. Don’t get me wrong I was doing the same thing, but fuck Bram you didn’t sound good. It felt like I was torturing you or something, like me, personally, was torturing you and I thought— I don’t know, I thought I could take the pressure off. Off both of us.”

Bram doesn’t know what to say or even think, except he can see how Simon came to that conclusion. He can’t figure out if he agrees with him or not.

He goes with what he thinks is the next logical question “How do I sound to you now, any better?”

“Well, you went out didn’t you?”

That angers back again.

“Fuck you, Simon.” As if, he was some kind hermit. He had league soccer every spring and fall (he just wasn’t that interested in playing college soccer), he had the school paper, and his best friend at Duke, Julia. They mostly just studied together but she also just got him, almost as well as Garrett had but not at the same level Simon did.

But now Simon’s laughing and the sound calms him down, “You just are not a happy a drunk, Abraham.” Hearing him use his full name makes his heart flutter. He’s the only one who calls him that besides his mom.

“Ugh, God I know. What time is it? 515? I’m probably going to vomit sometime within the next hour.” Saying this reminds him he still has 3 bottles of Mike’s left and he should probably take care of them before anyone else wakes up. He takes them to the mini fridge and puts them in there and throws the bottles in the trash.

Simon’s laughing again “You poor baby, you. Wish I was there to nurse you back to health.”

This surprises Bram. “Do you?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh “Yes, Bram! Oh, and by the way you were wrong. I do still love you and not even in that platonic you’re-my-first-love-and-I’ll-always-love-you-no-matter-what kind of way. I just plain love you. I’m totally over-the-top in love with you. I honestly don’t even know where you got the idea that I didn’t.”

Bram’s heart feels like it has grown wings and taken flight inside his chest but he can’t help it he laughs “Dude, YOU broke up with ME. I still love you too, by the way.”

“I think— I think we should keep things as they are for now though. Maybe, see where we’re at come summer...?”

“If that’s what you want.” He’s smiling like an idiot right now, he thinks he’d agree to anything short of conversion therapy at the moment but he honestly thinks he’s ok with it as long as he still cares for him.

“I think it’s a good idea for now.”

“Ok.”

A comfortable silence falls and it feels good, like the old days.

“Sooo, tell me about this terrible date you had.”

“HA. You don’t want to know.”

“Of course I do, hearing all the gory details will make me feel better about the fact that you went out on a date with someone that wasn’t me.” He says earnestly. “Full disclosure though, I already freaking hate this guy, even if you would have had a great time I would I hate him. Probably more so then.”

“Feel free to hate him, he sucks.”

“Hopefully not you.” Simon replies cheekily.

“Definitely not me and head out of the gutter Spier, I’m trying to give you details from the Worst Date Ever.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Well, first of all he was disgustingly fast eater. I wanted to ask him if was a competitive eater or remind him to breathe while he was chewing.”

“You should of.”

Bram laughs “and he was laughing at his own jokes. Just him on his own and that, I don’t know, got under my skin.”

“Fast eating. Laughing at his own jokes. He doesn’t sound bad enough for sweet Bram  
Greenfeld to give me leave to hate him and say he sucks.”

“Just wait, Si, it gets worse. It gets so. Much. Worse. SO anyway, then he invites me back to his place for a drink and well, you know...”

“Man, I hate this guy so much.”

“So we go back to his place,”

“You go back with him?!? But he eats too fast!”

“You just said that wasn’t that big of a deal!” He likes this riffing their doing, it’s fun and so familiar. 

“Yeah but I mean you definitely don’t want to have sex with a fast eater, I mean imagine what else he’d be fast at...”

This makes Bram practically bust at the seams. He’s laughing more than is really necessary given how funny the joke really is but it’s late (or early?) and he’s still a little buzzed and he’s just so happy. When he finally regains his composure he sighs happily and says “sorry.”

“It’s ok. I’ve missed listening to you laugh.”

“I’ve missed your jokes.”

“Ok, so what happens when you get to his place?”

“Oh, right. We get to his place and it’s like nice. Way nicer than any other student’s place I’ve ever been in. He makes me this cosmo and He asks me about my family and I get the impression that he’s not even listening to me.”

Bram’s pretty sure he hears Simon mumble the word “Neanderthal” under his breath.

“Now I’m a little bit embarrassed by this next part, so just, be nice?”

“I’m always nice.”

“Ok, so then he tells me he’s never been with a black guy before and asks me if I’ve ever been with a white guy before.” He says this quietly because for some reason when this kind of thing happens to him it’s always him that ends up feeling embarrassed and not the person who really should be feeling it.

“Seriously? What the fuck?!”

Bram releases a breath he didn’t realize he was even holding and says “I know right?!”

“Wait what’s the embarrassing part?”

“Oh, then I made out with him.”

“Nooooooo! Abbbbbraaaahaaaammmmm...” he can practically hear the facepalm.

“I know, I know! I must’ve been lonelier than I realized.”

“You’re right, that was The Worst Date Ever.” Simon says sympathetically.

“What about you? Have you had any awful dates?” He asks not really wanting to know the answer.

“That’s a hard no. No one I’m interested in.”

“You could be you know? If you wanted to. I just want you to be happy.” He thinks it’s true, too. 

“I know, thanks. I don’t see it happening though.” 

People are starting to come out of their rooms and getting ready for breakfast. 

“I hate to say this but I should probably go sleep off this hang over.”

“Right. Yeah. Good luck with that.”

“Thanks. When are you going back to Shady Creek?”

“Tomorrow. Er, I mean today considering it’s, wow, it’s 7. When do you go back?”

“Thursday. Try to take a nap before you go though, Si. Don’t need you falling asleep at the wheel.”

“I will. Can I see you while your home?” Simon asks hopefully.

“Obviously. I thought that was given.”

“Nice. Well, I’ll see you at home then, Bram.”

“See you at home, Simon. I love you.”

“Love you.” And then he’s gone, but not as gone as he once was.

Even though he knows they have a lot more to discuss and some real ground rules to establish, he walks back to his room feeling happy and so hopeful he may burst.


End file.
